Goodbye, Boys

I know there are going to be a lot of hurt feelings and paroxysms of disappointment from my male readership when I admit that I went to a chapel this weekend and said "I do" with a man that, admittedly, I hardly know.

And, no, we weren't playacting.

But, whatever, it seemed the thing to do at the time and I don't regret it in the least.

After all, what is a christening without the presence of a godmother and a godfather, pledging to help raise a child (her nephew, his best friend's son) not only in the event of a catastrophe, but also in the day-to-day moral coaching of another of God's "little lambs."

OK, so I was raised Baptist and I was actually a bit nervous walking in the Lutheran chapel, the notion of godparents an altogether foreign concept to me. "So what do I do?" I asked my sister. "Should I bring anything? Will I need to say anything? Should I shave my head, maybe bring a bottle of holy water? Should I tip the minister?"

But she was as clueless as I was, and we both just followed the lead of the minister, who'd been kind enough to print off a program with the entire ceremony written out word for word.

So when it came my turn to speak — to read those words on a piece of a paper — and I said "I do" in front of family and friends...

Well. Let's just say I wanted to turn to my parents and say, "I hope you heard that — because that very well might have been your only chance."